Half a Sun
by singingstarryknights
Summary: SemiPost 'Love Run Cold.' Thoughts that go along with that heartbreaking dialogue. Spoilers for 3x03. DL Drabble.


"To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides."

David Viscott

…

Danny sighed, feeling a rush of heat in anticipation as he spotted her walking down the hall. He needed to settle this. Air it out. He needed to hear her enunciate whatever thought process she had. He was over being stood up; it would have been sophomoric to be hung up about it. It was really the manifestation of whatever was going on in her head. He picked up his step, easily catching up with her.

"Lindsay Monroe." She paused, cringing inwardly at his concerned, business-like tone, careful not to let her full, given name fall off his tongue like the affectionate nickname he hadn't used all day.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He paused, waiting for her to speak, explain herself, pour her heart out, tell him her secrets, her worries, her… anything. Nothing. Fine. He'd start. They were going to have to have this conversation, regardless.

"I have to know what's going on with you." One look in her eye told him she was uncomfortable, and he sighed, trying a different approach. "Look, I mean, you and I, we have this thing, right? This chemistry? Like we're into each other?" This time the corner of her lip curled upward gently, barely the trace of a smile, but he saw it. He had been almost past the urge to throw caution to the wind and kiss her senseless. Hold her in his arms like he had a few days back. Reassure whatever insecurities she had.

"But every time we're in the same room together today, it's like... don't tell me you don't feel it also." Erase the doubt, and the dread of impending doom etched across her features. Something. Anything. Lindsay, please.

"I can't do this, Danny." He knitted his brow into a frown. He detested girl-speak code-talking. He needed proper nouns.

"You can't do what?" He could play this cool. He had to. Or he would fall apart.

"I can't... be in a relationship... with you."

"All right, I don't, I don't... um, I just... I'm talking about spending some time together. Dinner. A few drinks. Some laughs." He didn't really mean that, the hurt in his eye said he was bent on forever. His heart, his intention, his affection for her was everywhere. She could see it in the soft shine of his eyes, even hidden party behind the subtle tint of his glasses. She could see it on his lip, threatening to tumble out with every breath. She was such a jerk. Oh God, this was a bad idea.

No. It was the best idea they had ever come up with, solving cases or no. She and Danny, they fit together. They worked. They made logical sense. They could love each other, if they let it get that far. A few drinks. Right. Looking up at him straight, she wondered if 'a few drinks' translated into 'forever and always' in the Staten Island dialect of English. The tear glistening subtly in the corner of his eye told her she'd win the pot if she placed a bet.

"Look, Danny... I like you. A lot. But right now, I can't. It's not you, okay? I just... I need to be by myself so I can... work some stuff out, that I thought... I had put behind me. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"S'okay." He bit his lip, dismissing her apology with a shake of his head, and she nearly caved. The resolve that she had so precariously assembled threatened to crumble. She had just the most clichéd, vague, elusive excuse in the history of mankind, and he had accepted it. Just like that.

She didn't see the city, when she looked at him, and it worried her, it was such a large part of who he was. She saw a man, with the contents of his heart dangling precariously on his sleeve, terrified that he would get trampled, but even more terrified that he'd lose his chance.

"Maybe we should just do our jobs." She needed to step back. She was going to grab him and kiss him into a stupor if she didn't put a few more feet between them. She turned, closing her eyes, blocking her view of his crestfallen features. Could they really just do their job? Vaguely, she wondered what was to become of the flirtatious banter that got her out of bed in the morning. His heartbroken expression had told her that they were in danger of going through a rough patch, awkward, uncomfortable. Like Jr. High. More feet. The number of feet between them had become, sometime during their conversation, directly proportional to how much she wanted to start something. Something was not good right now. Now was not good. Now was anything but good.

She blinked away a tear, rounding the corner at the far end of the corridor. Danny, despite being everything she wanted, everything she needed, had horrible timing.

If they'd had this conversation three months ago, she'd have already slept with him. Would be going home to his apartment, curling up to his side in the dark of the night. Listening to his even breathing as her lullaby after every long, trying day. Three weeks ago, and they would be stealing glances and short, hastened displays of affection in the darker halls, laughing together, sharing their secret. Three days ago, she would have kissed him back.

But her secrets were her own, and the last thing she wanted to do was drag Danny into her life when it was a train wreck, and she was barely managing to identify the salvageable remains. At the other end of the hall, his voice broke the quiet, his words breaking her heart.

"If there's anything you need from me, just let me know, okay?"

He really did love her.

She knew that.

He would wait for her.

She knew that also.

In the half of a shadow of the afternoon sun, Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, turning back down the hall towards the detective's offices, and Flack's desk, intent of walking the length of it at a somber, lamentful pace.

If she wasn't ready, whatever the reason, he would wait.

………

A/N: Bastards! Have no fear, though, Danny/Lindsay shippers. Various parallels can be drawn, comparing Lindsay Monroe to Gill Grissom and Danny Messer to Sara Sidle, in the context of the relationship department. Bruckhiemer has a number of formulas under his belt, for the CSI trilogy. There is a formula for this, and there is a precedent. I think we just have to wait. If Grissom finally caved for Sara, Lindsay will cave for Danny. It's only a matter of time. She's going to have to spill that secret. And, as always, he'll be there, with a soft shoulder, and an ear. Echoes of 'Play with Fire' ("I don't know what to do about this.") 'Nesting Dolls' ("Do you think there's such a thing as a murder gene?") and 'Way to Go' ("I'm not ready to say goodbye.") I'm a firm believer. It's going to be okay. The evidence is there. We will be canon. Danny is a DL shipper. That's half the battle.


End file.
